Devlog #1 – A Faded Dream, Reignited
This is the start of something I never thought I’d be doing — building my own game studio as a solo parent, with no connections, no funding, and no clear roadmap.
I’m teaching myself everything from C++ to Blender. I’m designing, modeling, writing, and building systems in my bedroom at night — all while raising kids and holding down real-life responsibilities. But I’m doing it anyway. Not because I have it easy, but because I’m tired of waiting for permission to pursue my dreams.
This first post is less about mechanics and more about mindset. I want to share what it’s like to begin something this big when you’re not already in the industry. This is where it starts: a solo parent, a faded dream, and a real shot at something better.
The vision for this studio is clear to me. I want to make games that feel alive, with purpose, beauty, and care — not just to play, but to remember. Games that move people in ways they didn’t expect.
I won’t be sharing much about the project just yet, but this devlog will document everything I go through on the way to my first release. I’ll be posting updates covering what I’m building, what I’m struggling with, and what I’m slowly figuring out on my own terms.
I’ve spent the last few weeks solidifying the website, visual identity, and studio goals. Right now, I’m teaching myself asset creation in Blender, studying Unreal Engine workflows, and finalizing the website that you’re reading this on. It’s not perfect — but neither is starting from nothing. And that's the point.
If you’re here, at the beginning, thank you. I hope this devlog can grow into something that shows not just the game I'm making — but the story of how someone with no blueprint, no degree, and no industry connections built something worth remembering. Because this isn’t just about building a game — it’s about showing that someone like me can do it, and maybe inspiring someone like you to try.
Devlog #2 – A Blade of Grass, A World to Come
The first thing I realized after starting this journey is that ideas are cheap — but turning them into something tangible is a battle.
These past few weeks, my nights have been spent in Blender, sculpting the most deceptively simple thing: grass. Not rolling fields, not sweeping landscapes — just a single blade of stylized grass.
It sounds small, but for me, it was a breakthrough. I went from staring at an empty viewport to holding something in my hands (well, digitally) that I actually created. Modeling, unwrapping, painting, baking, and seeing it sway in Unreal Engine — it was my first glimpse of the world I want to build coming alive.
What I’ve learned is this: small wins matter. A blade of grass may not sound like progress, but it is. Because if I can build this, I can build a forest. If I can build a forest, I can build a world. And if I can build a world, then maybe I can finally tell my story.
I’m still figuring out the right pipeline from Blender to Unreal, still making mistakes, still fixing geometry seams that shouldn’t exist. But each night, I leave with something a little better than before.
And that’s the heart of it — learning to shape worlds, one piece at a time.
Devlog #3 – Two Paths, One Dream
If you’ve been following this journey, you already know I’m building everything from scratch — coding, art, design, even the website you’re reading this on. But here’s something I haven’t shared yet: I’m not just working on one game. I’m building two.
They’re wildly different. One leans into survival — gritty systems, mechanics that test how players adapt, and the satisfaction of overcoming challenges. The other leans into narrative — slower, softer, emotional. It’s not about surviving a world, but about feeling it.
I know what you’re thinking: “Why would anyone take on two games at once, especially solo?”
Because they both represent different pieces of me. One is about struggle and grit. The other is about memory and meaning. And choosing between them felt impossible.
The truth is, I don’t have to choose yet. One game teaches me speed — how to build systems quickly, block things out, and move fast. The other teaches me patience — how to create detail, mood, and heart. Together, they’re teaching me balance.
Right now, the “what” matters less than the “why.” I’m chasing two very different dreams, and both are shaping me into the kind of developer who can actually finish them. Think of them as two paths running side by side in the dark. You can’t see where they end, but you can feel where they’re leading. And when they finally converge into the worlds I’m building, I promise it will be worth the wait.
Devlog #4 – The Work You Don’t See
When people picture game development, they imagine glowing screens, cinematic trailers, or that “aha!” moment when something finally works. But most of it isn’t glamorous at all. It’s trial, error, and starting over more times than I’d like to admit.
Take my grass, for example. I thought my first tuft looked perfect. I modeled it, painted it, and felt proud when I saw it in Blender. But once I imported it into Unreal and added wind weighting, the movement didn’t feel right. I went back into Blender, adjusted the weight paint, reimported, tested, and repeated. Each time, the motion improved a little, and importing became second nature. But no matter what I tried, the grass still didn’t look natural enough. Eventually, I made the call to start completely over — this time focusing on single blade variations.
The inventory system gave me a different kind of headache. I burned three days frustrated because icons refused to appear. I kept checking and rechecking my code, convinced I had missed something obvious. The culprit ended up being my own “test code” — items were added and removed without textures assigned to the removal portion, so nothing could display. Once I switched everything over to the structured database — where each item has its mesh, texture, and entry — the icons finally showed up, and the system worked the way it should.
Then came gathering. With stone, everything worked perfectly: attack, collision, add to inventory, despawn.
Clean and simple. But when I applied the same logic to foliage, the tree never despawned.
Its health would drop to zero, but it just kept standing there — which meant the player had an infinite supply of wood. Not exactly ideal for a survival game.
These aren’t flashy milestones, but they’re the reality of game development. Most progress is made in the quiet hours, breaking and fixing the same thing until it finally works. If it ever looks effortless on the surface, it’s only because of all the messy, invisible work underneath.
Devlog #5 – Bridging the Gap
One of the most rewarding parts of this journey has been seeing it through my son’s eyes. He’s six years old, and when I talk about making a game, he doesn’t see the late nights, the debugging, or the times I have to start over. He just sees the possibility. He’s already asked me to make a character that looks like him, and he talks about how exciting it will be to build and play together in a new world.
That kind of belief is contagious. It reminds me why I started this in the first place — not just to make a game, but to prove that creating worlds is possible, even for someone starting from scratch.
It’s also why I’ve been diving deeper into MetaHumans. Epic’s recent updates have made them more versatile than ever, especially for solo developers like me. The improvements to rigging, facial expression fidelity, and performance capture mean I can create characters that feel alive without needing a full studio pipeline. And while MetaHumans are often associated with realism, they don’t have to be. I’ve seen developers adapt them into stylized pipelines as well — proof of how flexible this tool can be. I haven’t explored that workflow yet, and for now I won’t be using MetaHumans in my stylized project, but for my survival game they’ll be essential.
That’s something worth sharing with the community. MetaHumans lower the barrier of entry for indie devs. They’re not a shortcut — they’re a bridge. They give creators the freedom to focus on gameplay, story, and emotion instead of spending months on technical hurdles and trying to model every detail from the ground up. And for me personally, they also give me a way to connect my son to this dream — by showing him a character who looks like him, inside a world we can explore together.
I began this journey to chase a dream of mine. But the more I build, the more I realize it’s also about sharing what’s possible — with my son, with other new developers, and with anyone who needs to be reminded that the tools are here, and the door is open.
